Well, this is just a little one-shot I came up with while listening to the song 'Tell Her Something' by Age of Information.
I've spent the entire night writing this and I have to say that I like it! (I wrote this story on a piece of paper and guess what - I have tendinitis now!)
Enjoy this story!
Disclaimer: I do not own the show or its characters.
A/N: I apologize for my grammar, sadly english is not my first language!
The lights of the lab were lowered down, he didn't want anyone to notice his presence in there. People wouldn't normally let him in, he could stay there just because of her.
Sherlock played with his little blue ball, rolling it around the counter. His eyes were fixed on the empty space in front of him while John occupied his own seat near the door.
"Are you sure about doing it?" John asked, arms crossed. His eyes were showing fear, sadness, concern but most of all, resignation.
"That's the only way, John. Moriarty's playing a tricky game and I can't win this without doing it" Sherlock replied. His eyes, on the other hand, were showing emptiness, courage and, with John's amazement, emotions.
"Thank you" John said. "For trusting me enough to tell me".
"I had no one else to turn to" Sherlock replied and John knew that was his way to tell him that he could always trust him.
"Everything's sorted, then" John said, revising in his mind the plan they had just came up with. Sherlock nodded.
"Is there anything else I can do for you?" John asked. Sherlock straightened up in his chair and a sparkle suddenly lit his eyes.
"Yes..." he replied with a croaked voice. Hearing his voice break made John feel uncomfortable. Sherlock was falling and it was heartbreaking.
"What is it?" John asked but he knew what his friend was going to ask him.
"Could you please tell her..." he started and when a tear wet his face, he blocked for a moment. He was at his weakest, no one had ever seen him that way and no one ever will again. John let him time to collect himself and his thoughts but Sherlock didn't know how to speak his mind.
"Tell her what?" John spurred. Sherlock sniffed loudly but he didn't care.
"Tell her she is all that's good and beautiful in this world" Sherlock began. "Tell her that for me love was such a mystery and I never meant for this love to leave her cold in the night. Tell her that everything's my fault, that this was not what I had planned for me, for her...for us. Tell her that I was lost, that I had lost my mind and that I tried to spare her all my lies". He took a deep breath. "Tell her not to cry. Tell her love will come around someday. Tell her that I...just tell her something".
John wanted to shout, shake his friend and change the present. He didn't want to tell her all those things. He didn't want him to leave him, to leave them.
"Okay. I will" he replied, his voice low as a whisper. Sherlock's phone buzzed after a moment of silence.
I'm waiting... JM
Sherlock collected himself once again and buttoned his jacket.
"It's showtime" he said. He took his coat and reached the door.
"Take care, my friend" Sherlock said. "And...look after her".
"I will, I promise. You take care, too" John replied and stretched out his hand. Sherlock took hold of his arm and squeezed it, thanking John for everything.
"See you in another life" he said and John laughed. Whether it was a new life on Earth or in Heaven, they would meet again.
Sherlock quickly disappeared behind the doors and John did as planned; he waited for his fall to happen.
Sherlock and John had planned every single thing, every detail was perfect, precisely calculated but what both hadn't foreseen was Molly's reaction.
John had acted his part very well. He went outside St. Bart's and waited for Molly yo come back to work. When she got there, she got the call and John followed her, pretending to be surprised.
"This phone call...is my note. For you" he heard Sherlock say on the other line. It was heartbreaking, the sound of her voice. The way she kept telling him how she would never believe that he was a fake made John want to stop the act but he could get a lot of people killed and he didn't want it to happen.
Then, he fell and she ran.
"Move, I'm a doctor! Let me through, please!" Molly yelled. John tried to keep her away from Sherlock's body. Even if he knew that he was alive, he wanted to spare her the view of his fake dead body. Molly tried to crawl next to his body but the homeless network did their part and kept her away.
Sherlock was being carried away and Molly cried in a stranger's embrace, kicking, trying to reach her lost love.
"He left me a note, too" John said. It was raining and Sherlock had been declared dead two days before. They were sitting on Molly's couch. John had his hand on her back and she was trembling.
"He wrote some things for me and some for you" he said. Molly had a blank look on her face and he wasn't even sure that she was listening. He took the note Sherlock had actually written for him to remember all the things he had to say. He had written those words down and memorized them immediately.
"Uhm...here...well, I'll skip my part, just..." John said, feeling dumb. He coughed and started reading it. "Do something for me, John. Tell her she is all that's good and beautiful in this world. Tell her that for me love was such a mystery and I never meant for this love to leave her cold in the night. Tell her-".
"Stop John, please" Molly said, interrupting him. Her voice was tired.
"Don't you want to know what he wanted you to know?" John asked.
"If he wanted me to know all these things then why isn't he here telling me himself? Why is he gone?" Molly asked, tears streaming down her face. John felt hopeless at that sight. "I don't want to hear that".
"He asked me to tell you" John tried again.
"It doesn't matter now. He's gone and he's not coming back" Molly replied, turning her head, looking down. John nodded and got up. He was about to leave when he turned around.
"Here" he said leaving the note on the couch. "I know it by heart. Keep it. Read it". Molly looked at the note but quickly glanced away.
"He would want you to read it. He couldn't say all that his heart longed to tell you but that's what he could say" John said and left, running back to Baker Street. Molly stared at the note for hours, John's words echoing in her head.
Something made her grab the note and she went to her bedroom. She read it.
That night she took her phone and dialed John's number.
"Molly?" John asked with a sleepy voice.
"I'm cold" Molly said, crying.
"I'm on my way" John replied, getting up.
Fifteen minutes later he was holding her in his arms, letting her cry her heart out.
"Don't cry" he said and her cry went louder.
She knew he was telling her not to cry just because it was something that Sherlock had asked him to do.
He knew she wouldn't stop crying but he knew he had to say those words. It was part of his act.
Five months later John found himself being carried away by a black car with a new woman inside. He knew he was going to meet Mycroft and his happiness was difficult to hide. Meeting Mycroft meant receiving news about Sherlock. The car stopped in front of the Diogenes Club and John found Mycroft waiting for him on the doorstep. It was unusual, for him to wait for his guests there.
"Good morning, Mycroft!" John said with his big smile on.
"Come inside John" Mycroft said, his voice wearing a grave tone. John didn't like that tone and warily followed him. They went to a private room and Mycroft made John sit down.
"Is something wrong?" John asked.
"I've got some news about my brother" Mycroft said, resting his weight on his umbrella.
"Good. That's good" John said. He hadn't heard from Sherlock since his fake death. It almost felt like he had actually died.
"I regret to inform you that my brother was killed three days ago in Nepal during his attempt to stop Moriarty's network" Mycroft said and John felt the world crash down.
"What? No...no, he's not dead, I know that he's alive. He's just...hiding, where is he?" John asked.
"He died, John. He was killed. I'm sorry" Mycroft replied.
"He's not...dead. He's Sherlock Holmes, for God's sake! He couldn't die, not like this" John said. "He never failed. He couldn't die".
"He usually had some help, that's why he always survived. He was alone and he died. I'm truly sorry John" Mycroft said. John's sight blurred and he didn't even know how he got back home, he just found himself lying on the bed, focusing on the news. For all those months he always had to act. He had to pretend to be heartbroken because he knew that Sherlock was alive but now that he was really gone, it suddenly hit him. Sherlock was dead. This time, for real.
Molly was coping well. It had been five months and she was slowly recovering. She rarely went to Baker Street to see his friend but she had recently got the habit to visit him every week. She had to deal with his death and going there was part of this task. She liked to be around John, he was strangely cheerful and could manage to cheer her up but when she got there that afternoon, she felt something was different. John was staring into the void, a hand lost in his hair. Molly approached him and when he didn't react at her calling him, she knelt in front of him.
"John?" she asked. "What's wrong?".
"He's gone" he automatically said. She took his hand and squeezed it.
"Yes. Yes he is. He's been gone for five months, John" she said, her words hurting herself.
"Oh I know, I know" he quickly said, lowering his gaze. "It's just...it kind of hit me now. I've just fully realized that he's never coming back".
Molly hugged him tight and didn't say anything. It was John's turn to cry in her arms.
Another five months passed quickly and John soon accepted the fact that his friend was gone for good. His heart would always be broken but he was alive and he could live for him.
Molly never fully recovered, her heart never opened up for anyone like it did for him. Still, somehow, John managed to find a place in her heart.
They didn't even realize it but soon enough, they started to date. They went out together, had dinner at nice places and when John took her hand, both realized that something had changed. They were mourning together and the hole they both had in their hearts was slowly being filled with their love for each other.
"I know you're not going to love me the way you loved him but...let's suppose he comes back. Are you still going to love me?" John asked. They were lying on their bed in their new house. Baker Street was long forgotten and they had bought a new house. Two years had passed since Sherlock's fake death and they were married.
"He's not coming back" Molly said caressing his face.
"That doesn't answer my question" John pointed out, fearing she wanted to avoid the answer.
"I love you, John. You. You're here and he chose not to be here a long time ago" Molly answered and John slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. Sometimes, he felt guilty for loving her. She was meant to be with Sherlock but he was gone and he had fallen in love with her. He truly loved her and he could feel that she loved him just as much.
He kissed her and decided not to feel guilty. Sherlock was dead, after all.
One year later, they were happy.
Both had a good job that payed the rent, they had finally finished moving into the new house and they were starting to talk about children. Their ordinary life was making them happy but their happiness wasn't meant to last long.
A man in a coat knocked on their door and Molly fainted when she opened it. John punched him in the face and after making sure his wife was safe and sound on the couch, he cleaned the blood from the man's face.
Sherlock was sitting in the middle of their living room, feeling strangely uncomfortable.
"You're alive" Molly whispered.
"Yes" he replied. His voice was empty and John's heart jumped. He had forgotten the sound of his voice.
"It's been three years. Three. Years" Molly said, getting up. She was red and she was crying.
"I'm sorry. Forgive me. I had some things to do" Sherlock replied.
"You...you had some things to do?" Molly repeated and there, she lost it. "Couldn't you just drop by and tell us you were alive? Have you any idea what we've been through?".
"I couldn't let people hurt you, you both had to believe that I was dead in order to take Moriarty's men down" Sherlock answered and that's where John lost it.
"You asked your brother to tell me you were dead, didn't you? You did the same thing we did to her with..." John started and realized, too late, what he had just said. "...me".
"You knew" Molly exclaimed. Her eyes were big and shock was covering them. "You knew".
"I..." John didn't know what to say and decided it was time to tell the truth. "Yes, I knew".
Molly felt her legs grow weaker and she almost fainted again. She took deep breaths and tears were now covering her whole face.
"I helped him faking his death but then five months later Mycroft told me that he had died in Nepal, I thought he was dead too, for real" John said, approaching her. Molly stepped back and looked at him, horrified.
"How could you!" she yelled. "You lied to me! You promised to be honest with me, John. How could you lie to me about this, I'm your wife!". And there, Sherlock lost it.
"You're married?" he asked, shocked. His eyes quickly analyzed them. Rings on their hands, something he hadn't noticed. Living together. He was so anxious to see them again that he had forgotten how to observe.
"I stopped waiting for you a long time ago" Molly said, knowing Sherlock was wondering if she had ever waited for him to come back. John tried to reach her but she cried and ran away. She disappeared behind the door and left the two alone in the room.
"You married her" Sherlock said after a moment of awkward silence.
"I'm sorry. I thought you were dead. I thought...that you were never coming back" John replied.
"You did as I asked. That's it" Sherlock said and John suddenly remembered their last conversation. Look after her. Sherlock walked past him and reached the door.
"Take care of her for me, my friend" he said before leaving John on his own.
For five days, Molly stayed at her sister's house, not wanting to talk to neither of them.
Six days later, John knocked on her door, crying, telling her how sorry he was. She let him in, kissed him and told him she was pregnant.
Sherlock disappeared the day after and never came back.
John had lost Molly for a few days but in the end, she came back to him. And she forgave him.
Sherlock had lost Molly for three years and she never came back. For good.
That's pretty sad.
I just loooove drama.
No happy ending for Sherlolly fans, sigh. But happy ending for John/Molly fans, YAY!
(does this ship have a name? like ... Jolly? Molhn?)
I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Thank you for reading :3